


on rosemary, by any other name (a story from floor 6)

by everythingFangirl



Series: when I'm with you, I can only be me (stories from the victors' tower) [5]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Lunch Club, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Angst, Fanfiction of Fanfiction, Gen, don't stop me cause i'm havin a good time, should i be writing this fast? who knows, that has to be the strangest collection of character tags i've seen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:27:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23803840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everythingFangirl/pseuds/everythingFangirl
Summary: Dimly, Charlie hears Philza ask him something. When he opens his mouth, the words stick in his throat. He’s had hours of conversation with his mentor and his escort and his stylist about his brand, his strategies, last-minute ideas to salvage his reputation; the memories of their words slip through his mind like water through a sieve. All he can remember are his escort's words yesterday, echoing through his mind over and over and over again…Well, I suppose all we can do now is make you memorable.~Charlie's not quite on floor 6 yet, but he's getting there.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: when I'm with you, I can only be me (stories from the victors' tower) [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1715008
Comments: 12
Kudos: 98
Collections: victors' tower canon works





	on rosemary, by any other name (a story from floor 6)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WreakingHavok](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WreakingHavok/gifts).



> I am just not stopping, ahahaha
> 
> I'm kind of working on two bigger things right now (I haven't given up on 'and the universe said you're not alone', don't worry!), but Havok's AU is just a fountain of inspiration, and I still hadn't explored the most interesting part of Charlie's Games yet. So, here you go, this is that.
> 
> Concerning the title, rosemary sometimes symbolizes memory and remembrance, which I thought was appropriate to this story. (I don't even know if the title really makes sense but who knows)
> 
> Of course, if this crosses any boundaries or makes anyone uncomfortable I will take it down, no questions asked.
> 
> EDIT 04/11/2020: This has been partially rewritten to replace a few people. Everyone welcome RedRiotRoss and Philza Minecraft! I've also added a new section right at the end. "on staying young" and "on the things we've lost" have also had minor edits for the sake of these character replacements, but this work has had the biggest changes. Hope you enjoy!  
> 

It’s the night of the training scores.

Charlie has squeezed himself into the corner of a couch. His escort, who’d introduced himself as RedRiotRoss (“You can call me Red, or Riot, but usually you - they - it might just be easier for you to say Ross”) has settled down on the other side, still trying to make friendly conversation as the tension in the room grows. To Charlie, the barbed wire tailored into his white suit and the unnatural, almost blood-red color of his hair are still a little too alien for comfort. Toxxicsupport - Angel - his mentor, is perched in an armchair, focused intently on the screen, while his stylist has sunk into a second one on the other side of the room.

The room falls into a tense silence when the seal of Panem flares on the screen, even Ross going quiet when the first tribute’s face appears. They watch the numbers, and Charlie’s almost afraid to blink. The Careers score predictably high, taking the top three ranks as they usually do; District Two scrapes by with a five; Five is surprisingly high, gaining a nine; Six is average, with seven -

And then Charlie’s face shows up on the screen, along with the number one.

One.

One?

It takes Charlie a moment to process what he sees. One? He knew what he did in his training session wasn’t particularly flashy or exciting, but he thought he did his best, he thought it would be enough to - to -

His stylist stares at him with something like shock, Angel seems to be deep in thought, and Ross stares at the screen, wide-eyed behind his mirrored shades, mouth hanging open as if completely lost for words.

Charlie’s mind should be racing with thoughts, but it suddenly feels like there’s nothing more to say. He had never been the strongest contestant from the start, the only tricks up his sleeve being some slight muscle and funny wordplay. With the right clothes, the right mentor, the right strategy, he may have still stood a chance - but not with a training score of one.

His stylist’s eyes have turned from shock to pity. Angel is avoiding his eyes, as if she’s given up on him already. Ross leans back against the couch with a sigh. “Well. I guess… let’s do our best to make you memorable.”

It feels like a death sentence.

~

Charlie waits through the ceremonies of Tributes one to six without picking up any of their names. He can’t hear past the dull roar in his ears, unable to think through the numbness in his head. He idly picks at the sleeve of his suit while he waits. He can’t deny that it’s beautiful; patterns of vines and leaves crisscross the soft fabric, dotted with tiny purple blossoms. If he had any space for thought left in his mind, he may have even felt bad for all of his stylist’s lovely work going to waste. But he can’t even remember her name.

When District 7 is finally called, Charlie feels like it’s someone else who stands up, someone else who walks to the stage under the lights and Philza’s almost pitying gaze. He can’t be bothered to muster up the cheerful, joking persona he had struggled through his interview with. There’s no point in that anymore.

Dimly, Charlie hears Phil ask him something. When he opens his mouth, the words stick in his throat. He’s had hours of conversation with Angel and Ross and his stylist about his brand, his strategies, last-minute ideas to salvage his reputation; the memories of their words slip through his mind like water through a sieve. All he can remember are Ross’ words yesterday, echoing through his mind over and over and over again…

_Let’s do our best to make you memorable…_

_Memorable…_

_Memorable._

“You alright there?” Philza asks. “Do you know what you’re going to pick?” Charlie can hear the concern in his voice clear as day. Whether it’s for the audience’s sake or his doesn’t matter. Everything around him suddenly seems to be thrown into sharp focus: the bright lights shining into his eyes, the rustling of Philza’s wings, the uncomfortable murmurs of the audience, the smooth keyboard under his fingertips. The worry and apprehension in the eyes of his team where they sit in the front row. The movement of Peacekeepers just out of view of the cameras.

“No.”

“N- No?” Phil sputters, before chuckling uncomfortably in an attempt to control the situation. The murmurs of the audience increase in volume. “You can’t - you need to choose something.” His tone almost sounds pleading.

“No,” Charlie says again, more resolutely this time. “I’m done.”

Incredulous yells emit from behind him as he turns his back on the viewers and walks off the stage.

~

Later that night, he hears a knock on his door, and someone softly calls his name. Everyone here knows this floor, they know that he can’t lock his door himself, so it’s a sign of respect for his privacy when Angel doesn’t just walk inside without permission.

Charlie’s curled up on his bed when he hears it, and merely turns his back on the door. He doesn’t get up when Angel knocks again.

“Charlie, they’ve picked out a name for you.”

A jolt runs through his spine, and suddenly he’s paralyzed. Of course. Of course they would do something like that. Why would he ever think he could get away with pulling a stunt like that? Of course there would be repercussions.

He opens his mouth but can’t speak. Angel tells him anyway.

“Slimecicle.”

When he hears her footsteps receding, he releases a bark of laughter, short and humorless. But it is funny, isn’t it? His only goal had been to be remembered, and the Capitol has just guaranteed that. He’ll be remembered as a bad example to tell future Tributes what not to do. As a joke.

They say a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet, but that couldn’t be further from the truth in the Games. Your name is your brand, your identity, your goals and personality condensed into a single word. And that’s exactly what he’s been reduced to now: a joke. Who could ever sponsor a tribute with a name like that?

What kind of Victor would ever have a name like that?

~

_I don’t necessarily see what’s so bad about this._

_What do you mean?_

_The audience usually loves a rulebreaker. He’s made himself known, now. Before, he might have gotten a few sponsorships out of pity, but now he’s the underdog, and people are going to know who he is. They’re gonna want to see him succeed._

_It’s not about that, Ross._

_If it’s not about the audience, then what is it?_

_It’s about… the Capitol, the Gamemakers, what his actions mean for them. Even if he got sponsors, do you think they’d ever let them through? Do you think they’d actually allow a Victor who’s gone against their system so blatantly?_

_Angel…_

_There’s nothing else we can do. It’s all up to him, now._

_I’m sorry._

_Me too._


End file.
